


Our Demons Can be Friends

by 0trevskies



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I'm disappointed with how the mcu has treated tony, I'm kind of ignoring all the movies after avengers, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and Bucky - Freeform, and Steve - Freeform, dummy butterfingers you and jarvis are my favs, hell i'm disappointed, i want some family love and support for them all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0trevskies/pseuds/0trevskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since MCU won't do it, I'm going to attempt writing about Tony and Bucky recovering and getting help, finding love, and being surrounded by family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Demons Can be Friends

            Tony regretted not having traditional hinge doors. It was much more satisfying to slam a door closed, rather than just have it slide gently shut with a _shoosh_. He walked over to his closet (another sliding door damn it) and pulled out a large duffle bag. Tony stuffed t-shirts and jeans into the bag with more vigor than necessary, but he figured taking his frustration out on clothes rather than lamps and vases would be less messy.

            “I don’t need this,” he muttered to himself.

            “I disagree, Sir,” JARVIS chipped in mutinously.

            “Yeah, you shouldn’t be able to do that. I created you. I don’t remember programming disobedience. Especially towards me.”  

            “You programmed me to learn Sir, and I have learned much about you and the other Avengers in their time here. They are helping you.”

 

            It had all been so great.

           They’d cleaned up New York, rebuilt the tower (though most of it was salvageable he was _so_ good), leaving the giant ‘A’ as it was. In his own awkward way during a casual dinner in the common room, he’d invited the team to stay, sweetening the deal with them having their own floors.

           Bruce was nervous about being in the middle of a city, but Tony believed that they could learn how to give him control when he was big and green. He’d saved Tony.

           Plus the giant lab he’d built for him was hard to say no to.

          Natasha just shrugged, warning that she wouldn’t be in much, but that’t’d be nice to have a home base. Thor stood similarly and would be balancing his time between Asgard and Earth.

          Steve had smiled, saying he didn’t really need more than the small apartment SHEILD had given him. Being among his teammates was a comfort though, so he agreed.

         Clint had said point blank that he would only move in if his dog could come with.

         The serious demand brought loud laughter, Tony assuring that Lucky was welcome.

         It’d been great. For a couple of months.

        Then the nightmares started.

        He would wake up in a sweat, heart racing, images of a star filled sky crowded by alien ships burned into his retinas. He’d sneak down to the lab to avoid waking Pepper, and found that he was fine as long as he was working.

        That couldn’t last forever. Pepper tried to help him, but physical comfort could only get you so far. Tony knew she hated the suits, the life that went with them. She couldn’t see that it was a part of him, thought that if he left all the tech behind he would instantly get better.

        When he had a nightmare so bad that he ordered JARVIS to bring his suit to him, that’s when Pepper had been pushed too far. She left.

        He only lasted a few weeks without her to ground him, eventually depriving himself of sleep so much that JARVIS’ emergency protocol was activated based on his blood content, alerting the closest teammate to help him.

       That had been America’s golden boy. Once Tony had woken up 13 hours later, Steve had learned what had been happening. His lecture was thunderous, but obviously directed at himself for not realizing how bad in a way Tony was.

       Steve told him that he would get him help. When he tried to deny it, to say he’d be fine, the super soldier had put his foot down so hard he ripped the carpet underneath his boot.

 

            Tony pulled the zipper closed on the bag, the end snapping off in his haste. He threw the entire bag against the wall, knocking a picture frame down. The glass didn’t break, annoyingly enough. He’d thought shatter proof was such a good idea during the design.

            “Sending me to a loony bin is not _help_ Jarvis!”

            “It is not a mental sanitarium, Sir. It is the V.A. clinic employing Sam Wilson, who Steve Rogers had befriended. They help other soldiers with your condition-“

            “I’m not a fucking soldier! I don’t need help, I’m fine!” Sure, he’d been holed up in his workshop so much to distract himself that he’d collapsed from exhaustion. Okay, he didn’t talk to too many people outside of missions, and had avoided the common areas like the plague. He skirted around sleep like it would kill him, even though it was the opposite. When he did try to sleep, it was the same as dying; no air, no sound, vastness of space.

The room around him grew blurry, his eyes stinging, and before he knew it, his cheeks were wet. “I’m fine…” He tried to sit on his unused bed, but slid down the side to sit on the carpet. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually he got his breathing under control. “I’m not doing so hot, am I?”

            “You have a remarkable ability to recover Sir. I have faith in you.”

            Tony sniffed, wiping at his face.

            “I’m going to miss you. And the bots.”

            “We will miss you exorbitantly, Sir. We will be comforted by your inevitable return.”

            “Yeah.”

 

            Luckily, the group hadn’t ganged up on him as he left the tower. They knew him better than to do that. Only Steve waited by the car, smiling at him a bit guiltily. Tony sighed, chucking his bag in the back seat of the armoured Escalade.

            “If I really didn’t want to go, I’d fly the coop, so stop looking like you’re forcing me to the gallows. It’s not comforting.”

            They both got into the car, the driver putting up the screen so that they had privacy. Tony wished it was Happy driving him while also feeling grateful he wasn’t. Happy was in California with Pepper, and he couldn’t feel anything but relief for that. They were a good fit. It wasn’t Pepper’s fault that she was the last straw before he completely lost his grip.

Steve patted his shoulder, the crease between his brows loosening. Tony found he couldn’t look at that pitiful mug too long without feeling guilty himself.

            “Sorry, I just, know this isn’t easy for you.”

            “Don’t think this is an easy fix-it Stripes. It’s not a washing machine where I come out the other end good as new.”

            The hand on his shoulder squeezed, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel grounding. Tony wanted to shrug it off.

            “No one expects that, and neither should you. It isn’t about getting back to normal, whatever that is. It’s about getting you to a place where you can live with yourself.”

            “Save your wholesome speech Cap,” he tried to snap, but it just sounded tired to his ears. “I know you and the rest of them just want me back to being productive, making your little gadgets and weapons. You don’t want a teammate that will suddenly have a panic attack during a fight and end up with someone dead-“

            Steve crushed the arm rest he had been clenching, the leather, cotton, and metal bending as if it were clay. Tony stared, the burning of Steve’s look enough to create sparks.

            “I don’t want a teammate who has a panic attack and gets _themselves_ killed, who won’t talk to any of his _friends_ because he thinks we don’t care about him. We do Tony, we don’t give a shit about your gizmos unless you enjoy making them for us, because that is how you show you care. Let us show you we care too.”

            Tony held the gaze, mouth parted, feeling a bit winded.

            “Language,” was all that intelligently came out of his mouth.

            Steve’s look let up, a small smile trying to tug at his mouth. He pulled something out of the brown leather jacket he wore, holding it out to him in his large hand.

            Tony picked it up, recognizing it as one of his communicators.

            “Thought you might want a little bit of home with you.”

            Tony frowned, putting it in his ear. A familiar, soothing voice filled it.

            “Hello Sir.”

            The sudden dampness in his eyes and constriction of his throat went ignored by Steve, who looked out the window.

            “Hey buddy.”

            It helped, knowing he’d have JARVIS with him, but as they passed over one of the many bridges in New York, he was reminded that his supposed friends were sending him farther away from them.

             

           

            It was a sunny day in DC, and it just made Tony’s mood even fouler after the drive.

            As he entered the plain building with Steve at his side, he felt eyes on him, even if he couldn’t see anyone looking at him. If anyone was looking, the gazes were probably towards Steve. He was even more of a hero in a place like this. Tony felt queasy at that thought. He couldn’t be any more different than these people.

They went up to the front desk, where a nurse called Sam per Steve’s request. Normally Tony would talk her up, get her on his good side with his annoying charm, but it just wasn’t in him. He just stared at the floor instead.

            Sam arrived and was in his usual button up with khakis, smiling in a way that didn’t grate on Tony’s nerves. He reminded him of Rhodey in a lot of ways with their moral code and obedience, but Sam was much more laid back and sharp witted. Tony appreciated that.

            “Good to see you Tony, Steve.”

            “You too Sam. Thanks for this.”

            Sam placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. What was it with soldiers and shoulders?

            “Anything for a friend.”

            “You barely know me birdbrain,” Tony groused.

            Sam grinned, seemingly delighted by his snark. They’d met a couple of times, and there was noise of getting him onto the team. He would be a great addition with his aerial support.

            “Well, that’ll change starting now. Let me show you to your room.”

            The room was as plain as the building, though the furnishings weren’t sterile and cold like a hospital. No metal tables or plastic trays. There were two beds, much like a dorm room, with nightstands of light pine.  The sheets were an off white, with thick comforters and fluffy pillows. The walls were a soft blue, with recessed lighting, not the fluorescent shit that gave Tony a headache.

            “Pretty nice digs for the V.A.”

            “Yeah, we got a big donation. Wonder who that came from.”

            Tony felt his cheeks go a bit warm. He cleared his throat, putting his bag down on one of the beds. After his time in the cave, and especially after New York, Tony quietly helped the V.A. as much as he could. Most of his nightmares were fueled by the portal, but the kids who had died during his kidnapping came up too. It never got easier.

            “Do I have a roommate I should dread meeting?”

            “Not at the moment, you have it all to yourself for now.” Sam pointed out the bathroom off to the right, with a private shower. There was an intercom system on the wall, as well as a telephone. “Group therapy is at noon every day, but you can always come talk to me or the other staff. The wreck room is a good place to socialize with the others. I would encourage it.”

            Tony grimaced, smoothing his hand over the sheets. They weren’t the softest, but they were nowhere near rough.

            “I doubt they’ll want to talk to me.”

            “These men and women may not have gone through what you did, but they’ve been through a lot. They’ll understand more than anybody what you’re feeling.”

            Tony just nodded stiffly, thanking him.

            Steve, the big oaf that he is, hugged him shortly but with weight.

            “We’re all going to come visit you.”

            “Oh please don’t.”

            “Nope, you have no say on this. We won’t let you push us away anymore.”

Steve was getting the Stubborn American Face on, so Tony decided to quit while he was ahead.

            “Get out of here Wonder Bread.”

            Steve smiled, clapping Sam on the back on his way out. The ex-soldier pushed himself off the doorway where he had been leaning.

            “Dinner’s at 7.”

            “Do I have to?”

            “Yup.”

 

            Tony had worked up the effort to go to the dining hall at 7:15, which he found with all the signs hanging around, pointing him the right way.

            There were about twenty people scattered around the tables, some conversing while others ate quietly. The food was set out buffet style, so you could serve yourself what you wished. It felt less like a prison or hospital, he supposed.

            He found an empty table to pick his food at, though he didn’t stay alone for long.

            “I half expected you to hide out in your room.”

            Tony glared at Sam’s cheerful face.

            “Believe me, it was tempting. Don’t you have colleagues to eat with?”

            Sam munched on his sweet potatoes, shrugging.

            “This isn’t a school cafeteria where the students and the teachers are separated. We’re all adults.”

            Tony looked around him, seeing that most of the people were around his age, some greying, others much older. He spotted one kid, couldn’t’ve been more than twenty, sitting alone.

            “Not sure about him.”

            Sam followed his gaze, his expression growing grim once he saw him.

            “Orville is a special case. He was fresh faced and learning to be a coast guard. Pirates took the ship he was on.”

            Tony felt grief for the boy, who looked as if he was still on that ship.

            “What happened?”

            “It’s not my place to say. It should come from him.”

            Tony wanted to pry, but couldn’t help but agree.

           

            Being in a new environment did not help once night fell.  

            He woke up with harsh, dragged breaths, blood dripping down his chin where he had bitten his lip. The air felt too thin, his surroundings dark and silent.

            “Sir!”

            When the voice came through, he got the feeling it was not the first time his A.I. had attempted contacting him.

            “Yeah, yeah I’m here J. I’m here I’m okay.”

            “Perhaps you should contact someone-“

            “No, I’m fine, just a dream.”

            “It is most discouraging not being able to check your levels to tell if you are lying.”

            The utter _huffiness_ of his A.I. cleared his lungs, a short laugh bursting out.

            “Really J, I’m good, you are such a mother hen. You’re worse than Steve.”

            “I take that as the compliment I am sure it was intended to be.”

            Tony laid back on the bed he’d sat up from, looking out the window at the dark sky illuminated by the city. The gardens outside his room were lit softly, the noise of traffic soothing him.

            “Keep talking to me J…just, tell me what’s happening in the tower.”

            “Very well, Sir. Agent Barton has fallen asleep on the sofa, and Lucky is eating the pizza he left out. Doctor Banner is in his lab. Captain Rogers is in the workshop-“

            Tony blinked, even if the voice was lulling him to sleep. “What’s he doing in there?” He didn’t mind him being in the workshop, he just figured Steve would be bored around all the equipment and sleeping computers.

            “He is sketching. Dummy is helping him by holding a lamp over his work.”

            Tony felt himself smile, warmth pulsing right around where the arc reactor sat.

            “The bots are awake?”

            “They have been quite resigned without you Sir, though they are content now with Captain Rogers.”

            “That’s good…” he felt his mind drift off, the image of Steve and his bots a weird but comforting thought.

            “Good night Sir.”

            “Mm…”

 

            Group therapy wasn’t Tony’s favourite pastime, but it wasn’t horrible with Sam leading the discussion. Though, as the others opened up about why they had come to the clinic, he felt inadequate, that his worries were petty compared to theirs.         

            “What made you decide to come here Vasquez?” Sam asked the woman sitting to Tony’s left.

            She was taller than him, and just as broad, her face hard but her expressions not so much. Her dark hair was kept in a sensible bun, her tan features even more pronounced.

            “The fire alarm malfunctioned one night and it sent me into a panic. My niece was crying and tugging at me because she was scared, and all I could do was hide my head between my knees. If there had actually been a fire, we would have burned together. I couldn’t live with myself being a danger to her.”

            Sam nodded.

            “How has it been lately?”

            She grinned wryly.

            “I can have an alarm clock go off without tossing it out the window as if it were a live grenade. I like to think that’s progress.”

            Most of the group laughed lightly, Sam smiling with his very charming gap.

            “It definitely is. It’s all about small victories.” He looked towards Tony. “Newbie?”

            Tony shifted uncomfortably, the chair creaking lightly beneath him. His crossed arms probably radiated his discomfort more than anything he could say, but he just couldn’t relax when the attention was on him.

            “I didn’t sleep for a few days and it caught up with me. My “friends” basically man-handled me here.”

            Frost, who sat closer to Sam, smirked.

            “Guessing you don’t say no to Captain America.”

            Tony couldn’t help returning the expression.

            “It’s Black Widow you don’t disagree with. Steve’s just a huge coddler.”

            Sam snorted.

            “Can confirm.”

            When Sam finished the discussion, one of the quieter guys came over to Tony, seeming to try and look unthreatening. Being around Rhodey for so long, he couldn’t think of them as anything but stone faced teddy bears. He took the man’s offered hand.

            “Drake, right?”

            “Yes sir. Do you think we could talk for a minute?”

            Tony hesitated, but forced himself to nod. It’d score points with Sam if he saw him attempting to socialize.

            They went to the wreck room, sitting at a table near the big windows letting in the afternoon light. Drake seemed to bite the inside of his cheek a few times, before deciding on what he was going to say.

            “I knew one of the guys in the Humvee you were taken from…”

            Tony felt his blood run cold, explosions blasting in his ears and pain radiating from his torso. He gripped the chairs armrests and took a breath, keeping his panic under the surface.

            “I’m sorry-“

            Drake waved his hand.

            “I’m not accusing you or nothin’. Davey looked up to you. He was so excited to be picked for that trip.”

            As the bright young face came to mind, Tony felt the water’s surface of his façade ripple. They had been just kids, they were on a simple escort job, they were supposed to go home back to their families their parents their children their children were dead he was a _child murderer_ -

            He suddenly felt a strong grip on his forearm, and his loud breathing broke through his ears like an airplane turbine. He looked at Drake, the man’s entire face pinched in worry.

            “Sir, I didn’t mean to upset you, I thought I could give you closure-“

            “I’m fine Drake, really, I’m okay, I just need to-“ he stumbled out of his seat, already walking away. “I have to make a call, thank you Drake, really, it’s okay.”

            He barely kept himself from running to his room, closing the door behind him just to slide down it. He hated the trembling in his hands and the adrenaline pumping through his system. He could actually call someone, he could put his communicator on and talk to JARVIS, but he just couldn’t. This was his fault, no one could wash his hands clean of the blood.

            He deserved to die on the other side of that portal.

 

            There was a knock on his door the next day, with a concerned Sam on the other side. Tony felt the urge to yell at him to leave him alone, decided that was childish even for him, and opened the door with as much calm as he could muster.

            “Hey birdbrain, what’s shakin’?”

            He sounded like a train wreck even to himself.

            Sam’s frown wasn’t comforting.

            “I could handle one missed dinner, breakfast, lunch, and therapy session, but that’s about it without an explanation. Are you alright?”

            Tony breathed through his nose, walking over to sit at the desk in the room. Sam closed the door behind him to sit on the unused bed.

            “It was stupid, just an old memory.”

            “Yeah, those tend to be the nastiest and cause the most pain.”

            His dry tone revealed how worried he was.

Honestly, he’d missed a day of eating before.

            More than once. Consecutively.

            “I’m fine.”

            “Drake told me what happened after you missed group therapy. I’d say fine wasn’t exactly what you were feeling. He’s really concerned he upset you.”

            “I’m not a kid Wilson, I can handle it.”

            “Tony, the reason we’re here is to learn _how_ to handle it. Shoving everything into a dark corner in your head works in the moment, but not long term. Even the guys who don’t get blown up go through counseling. You need to bring this stuff out in the open if you want to “handle” it.”

            Tony didn’t say anything, staring at the bare desk. After a few minutes, Sam let out a breath, standing to leave.

            “Please come to dinner. I’m going to assign a counselor for you to talk to if you don’t come to group tomorrow.”

            “Is that like a threat to be sent to detention?”

            “You’re not a kid Tony, but I will take things into my own hands if you can’t. That’s my job. To help.”

           

 

            Tony showed up to group the next day, but he didn’t join the conversation. Drake kept looking at him, and he just smiled at the kid, nodding. That seemed to calm him, though by the look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t pleased with a nonverbal transaction.

            This was hell.

 

            Scratch that, hell came a few days later.

 

 

           

 

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who hell is haha -weeps-


End file.
